A train in the night

I am tired of holding.
my arm aches like my heart
cause this space
is only filled with dust.

I await the night
for Morpheus to do his part,
pick me at his pace,
as in him I lay my trust.

tears only drown me
while I sip potions of clouds,
high as I may be
waking up is an aching must.

Nightmares are in the daydream cart.
even the sun now has a face.

Ruddapoet